“Vars! Oi! Vars wake up. We have work to do.” A man shouted, and Vars opened his eyes, still exhausted. “Is it time? We’ve been working all night,” He growled.

“The villages are still alive. We can’t sleep.” The man replied with a grunt, “It’s either kill or be killed,” He looked away, “If we don’t, he’s going to pit us against each other. I rather kill a stranger than someone I knew for a day,” He walked away.

Vars scratched his head as he stood, “Does it matter? Whether we know each other or not? That won’t change the fact we’re killing.”

“The more reason to not care. We don’t have a choice, not against a god.” The man waved his hand, urging Vars to hurry. “Hurry!”

“Yes, Dad.” Vars walked behind his father, yawning as they entered the inner sanctum of Almora’s ancient burial, one of Katal’s biggest cults on the eastern side of the elvish kingdom.

“Didn’t we already wipe a village yesterday? I thought we were going to have a calm day for once.” Vars asked.

“Lord Katal is in conflict with other gods. He seeks offering. Apparently, yesterday’s village wasn’t enough.” Vars’s father replied, causing his son to start thinking.

“We aren’t the only cult in the world. Last I read there was over two hundred spread across the world. If we all got the same order, that means over two hundred villages were sacrificed and it wasn’t enough.” He looked forward, “That’s absurd, tens of thousands of people and it wasn’t enough.”

“Vars, we don’t calculate a god’s wishes. We obey his orders, and he’s the one deciding what’s best.” His father glared at him.

“I know,” Vars sighed, “Let’s get back to work,”

“You’re right.” His father sighed, “It’s best to get it done with quickly,”

****

A few hours later Vars was standing beside a burning village, watching as the people in it screamed. “I suspect, this another couple of thousands of people down the drains.”

He sighed and stood, “Not like I can do anything about it, if I refuse, they will kill me and get someone else to do the burning,” He stood and left.

****

That night back in the burial.

“Vars, we got a celebration tonight. Lord Katal seems to have won against whoever he was fighting with.”

Vars stared at his father with a smile, “Hee? I bet someone is going to die tonight anyway.” He knew how nasty Katal can get.

“Don’t say that,” His father shook his head, “We’re getting a chosen one.”

Vars stood, “Can we not?”

****

A few minutes later, Vars was standing in the inner room, looking at the main sanctum. “Why is my father standing with the other leaders?” He asked. This sanctum was divided into four sections, north, west, south, and east. Vars’s father was the south leader, they specialized in burning people.

The shaman old lady walked to the sanctum, barely able to walk. “Katal’s mercy falls upon us today. A chosen of Katal is going to be picked by him.” She said.

Vars sighed in relief, “So it’s going to be one of them? Hopefully, Father gets it,”

Another cultist poked him, “He won’t. The east leader is far stronger, he’s head slayer!”

“They won’t be fighting, at least I hope so.” Vars sighed.

“Katal requests a pure blood sport, the survivor will be his chosen.” The old lady said and Vars scratched his head, “I knew it,” He glared at Katal’s statue, “That nasty bastard, pitting his believers against each other for fun.”

The four men began to fight, and the one winning was the east lord, the head slayer.

One of the cultists poked Vars’s side, “Sorry for your loss, but I told you.”

Vars stared at the bloodied arena, looking at his father’s corpse as the east lord shouted in celebration, his wounds healing with divine magic as he became the chosen of Katal.

Thud! Vars walked forward with a straight face, going down the stairs and stepping into the sanctum ring.

“Hoi! You! What are you doing?” The shaman’s old hag shouted, glaring at Vars as he approached his father’s corpse, closing his eyes. “We killed a lot, we deserve such an end, don’t we?” He asked.

“I asked you what are you doing?” The old hag growled, her voice growing weak due to her age.

Vars ignored the shaman and stared at the east lord, “That’s holy magic you have. Got anything else?”

The east lord stared back at Vars, “You’re his son? What a pity,” He glared forth, “I got a divine spart, my kills go directly to Lord Katal without the need of a ritual or a shaman as the middleman.”

Vars smiled, “I see, I could work with that.” He stood, cracking his neck.

“What are you doing?” The east lord growled.

“We’re a bunch of killers, and today is a celebration. How about we kill each other for Katal’s amusement, and the winner keeps the title?” Vars smiled.

“You insolent bastard!” The shaman old lady screamed again. “There is no way…” She stopped, “Katal approved…you two get to kill each other, a blood sport.” She walked out of the sanctum.

The east lord pulled his sword, “So you want to meet your father quickly, I will grant you that wish.”

“This is the end,” Vars mumbled, lifting his staff.

BAM! The east lord lunged forth at a blinding speed, swinging his blade at Vars’s neck.

CRACKLE! A flaming spark flashed from Vars’s staff, releasing a fire blast at the east lord, setting him ablaze.

GAAAAAAAAA! The east lord screamed, but Vars didn’t give him a second to think, blasting him again and again with fire. All while keeping a calm passive face, not even bothering to move.

The east lord regeneration failed to keep up with the Vars’s flames, he ended up as a charred corpse just one minute after the fight started.

The shaman old lady walked into the sanctum, “You really did it,” She gasped, “The title is yours.”

Vars felt the divine magic rushing into his body, yet it was still linked to Katal. ^When I kill people, their souls turn into power that Katal takes. I might be able to take it for myself,^

CRACKLE! A fire spark emerged in Vars’s hair.

The shaman gasped, “Kill him! NOW!” She shouted at the top of her lungs, all the cultists stared in confusion as the fire crackled from Vars’s body.

“This is the beginning of the end,” He glared back at them, and soon a blinding flash engulfed the whole burial, a burst of pure white flames.

“This bastard!” The shaman old lady cried as her body evaporated in Vars’s explosion.

SWOSH! From the flames, Vars zipped out as fast as he could, flying through the tight caverns and barely dodging the stones in his way.

“There he is!” Some of the cultists survived, “Kill the traitor!”

Vars ran away as fast as he could, keeping an eye on the people chasing him. ^I took almost forty of them. That means twenty are left at least. Only five are chasing me so the rest are injured.^

SWOSH! Another cultist emerged at the end of the cave, staring at the coming Vars with his sword raised. ^Shit! The guards,^

Vars lifted his arm to block the slash.

CRACK! The sword went right through his arm and took his left eye as he blitzed over the guard.

“Damn it!” Vars growled, burning his arm and eye with flames to stop the bleeding. ^The regeneration isn’t kicking in, of course, he won’t grant me power now that I betrayed him. Yet he still takes power from everything I kill.^

Vars flew into the night sky, leaving the cultists growling on the ground. “The bastard ran away! Should, send people after him.” A man shouted.

“Leave him be, we suffered a lot of damage and we need to make an offering tomorrow. We don’t have manpower to spare.” Another growled, “My Katal bring his doom,”

***

After flying for half a day, Vars crashed into a river beside an elvish village. The farmers picked him up thinking he was an adventurer who got taken down by a monster.

The moment he woke up, Vars left the village, trying to get as far away from Katal’s cults as possible. He needs time to study the powers of the chosen, and how to exploit them against the god.

After fifty years of traveling around the continent, he managed to get his arm and eyes healed by a witch in exchange for some of his blood.

Another century later he discovered that Katal couldn’t take power from his kills if he turned the corpses into undead and bound their souls to the bodies. With that in mind, he went on a search for necromancy.

Twenty years later, he discovered the location of an ancient tome. Morena’s binds of necromancy. And one year later, he managed to get it by raiding an acid-filled tomb in the frozen wastelands of the north.

Another four hundred years later, he had mastered necromancy to its peak, but his body was growing old without him finding a way to destroy Katal. His only solution was lichdom, becoming an elf lich, a Baelnorn.

Another century passed, and he managed to succeed in the ritual and became an immortal lich with the only purpose of destroying Katal. But his skeletal body made it hard to blend between the people.

Another century later he managed to create a spell that binds him to corpses and allows him to look like an alive elf for the rest of what the corpse’s natural lifespan was. And thus, he could look like a normal elf at the cost of one elf every one thousand years. His first target was a leader of the Katal’s cults, and he managed to look like he used to.

Another three hundred years passed, and he finally discovered the traces of an ancient artifact. A dagger that was once used to kill a god and became a symbol for murder.

Anyone who is attuned to the dagger should be able to absorb power from killing people and eventually becoming a demi-god. Some scriptures even say Katal used it to become a god.

One year later, Vars started his search for the dagger, but soon he discovered another side effect of his lichdom. The way he acts seems abnormal, always unempathetic to everything.

He had to spend two years studying elves in an attempt to learn how to act like them again, and soon he managed to give people a decent impression that none suspected him to be a lich.

Ten years later, He discovered the location of the dagger. It was stored in Ruris’s kingdom vault. The humans held it for centuries, making sure none got to it.

Vars then spent five years traveling across the sea and land to reach the human kingdom, almost getting killed several times on his way.

One year later, he was closer to dagger than ever. All he had to do was take a ride from Alina to the capital, and he could start planning.

On his way to Alina, he mistakingly walked into the territory of a clan of barbarians. The last thing he wanted was attention, so he decided to try and talk his way out, but the idiots didn’t care.

One day later, he was tied with ropes and locked in a wooden cage over a boiling pot as the barbarians danced around the flame. This was Gug’s clan, and she was dancing down with them. They will cook and feed him to the beasts they raised.

Cooking was a common way to make sure monsters’ flesh lost its poison, and barbarians didn’t care and boiled everything just to be safe.

^Maybe I should just burn this place. But, I don’t have any more space to store undead.^ Vars sighed. He didn’t want to kill them and give power to Katal, and he also didn’t want to discard any of his already trained undead.

“What should I do,” He sighed again, maybe making a run for it is the best option.

****

KA-VROOOM! As Vars sat in the cage, he felt like the sky fell on the ground, the mana across the whole forest screamed as the small monsters ran away and the strong ones became wary and terrified.

As a lich, he could feel, “An arrogance was born,” He growled, staring at the forest.

Half a day later, a weird white-haired man walked from the forest heading toward the clan. Vars could know it at a glance, that man was a monster of the arrogant blood, a dragon.

Gug cut Gojo’s path, standing in front of him ahead of the clan gate. “Skinny human! Beast food!” She growled.

Gojo reached into his pocket and pulled out a whole wooden foot, danging it with two fingers, “I found this, is it yours?” He looked at Gug with a smile.

Vars gasped, “Wait! He raided my camp?”

Gojo blinked as he heard Vars’s gasp and stared at him, “So it’s yours? Why are they cooking you?” He waved his hand.

“It’s not like I want to be here. Ask them not me.” Vars growled.

Gojo looked at Gug, “Why are you cooking him? Do you eat long-eared people, I mean elves? Can I have some?”

“Not for Gug, for the beasts,” Gug pointed at a pen filled with bears and wolves. “You make good food,” She lifted her fist, swinging at Gojo’s head.

Gojo weaved her attack, knocking her down with a backhand fist to the chin.

He walked toward Vars with a smile, “I found more in the forest,” He showed him the wooden foot.

“Forget about that, release me,” Vars replied with an exhausted voice.

“No way,” Gojo replied, “I’m hungry and want something to eat.”

Vars knew it, to dragons, humanoids were mere food.

GRAAAAAAAAAAAA! The barbarian chieftain rushed toward Gojo, enraged.

With a smile on his face, Gojo rushed and ran toward the chieftain, sending him flying with one kick that exploded with the void. He then made a walk to the chieftain’s hut and sat on his throne. “This place is mine.” He said, staring at the rest of the barbarians.

“Free me!” Vars shouted, “I can help you!”

“Food shouldn’t talk,” Gojo sighed, glaring at the other barbarians. “Anyone of you want to be eaten?”

Listen! A voice boomed in Gojo’s head, a telepathic message from Vars. I know you’re a dragon, It’s only a matter of time before people find out and start hunting you. I’m a mage and I can help you.

Gojo stood. What Vars said aligned with a strange voice in his head claiming to be his mother so he decided to trust him for the time being.

After three years of planning, Vars managed to execute his plan and defeat Katal, destroying the portfolio of murder from its root, at the cost of his life, and hundreds of souls from the capital.

****

DING! Vars opened his eyes, standing in pure darkness with a golden throne in front of him. A white-haired woman with twenty-four pure white wings walked and sat on said throne.

“God of murder Vars, you have died.” The woman said with a smile, “I’m Aria, the collective consciousness. I’m here to tell of your life, and end.”

Vars lifted his head, “What happened to the portfolio of murder?”

“It returned to the overgod, none shall have it again,” Aria replied.

Vars smiled, “Then it’s all over,”

“I was asked by the overgod to state the numbers to you,” Aria cleared her throat, “Katal had his cults sacrifice an average of fifty thousand souls a month worldwide. He’s been doing it for two thousand years.”

Vars nodded, “What a horrible existence, don’t you agree?”

“I only agree with the overgod,” Aria replied, “Your ascension consumed twenty-five thousand souls, half what Katal kills in a month, but you managed to overthrow him. Congratulations, you achieved your life goal.”

Vars smiled, “Sacrifice twenty-five thousand to save fifty thousand each month from now on. Do you think it’s a fair trade?”

“It’s not my place to think of what it is, I only deliver the overgod’s words.” She stared at Vars with a passive face. “Your soul can’t be saved as the gods die a true death and return to the primordial sea of magic. You don’t have much time left, any last words or wishes?”

Vars looked up, “I wonder, what do toes taste like,”

“I cannot grant that wish,” Aria replied.

“I see, what a shame…” His soul disintegrated into a golden mist.